


Fuck You, Jack

by urcadelimabean



Category: Black Sails
Genre: - a little bit, Bickering, Bondage, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, M/M, it's character development, the most Jack has ever topped anyone and he's not even physically on top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urcadelimabean/pseuds/urcadelimabean
Summary: Jack knows Charles enjoys kissing for hours but that doesn't seem to be where this is headed, not today, not from the hungry look in his eyes.





	Fuck You, Jack

It's hot and blindingly sunny outside, but the heat isn't so unbearable in the brothel, with a breeze coming in the window from the sea. Jack sighs. He glances up from the papers on his desk, hearing the muffled sound of footsteps from outside.

Charles throws open the door and strides across the room, swinging his legs over the desk so he's sitting squarely in the space Jack needs to work. He is shirtless, of course, a fact that Jack takes care to note while trying his damnedest to feign disinterest. Jack’s lovers have always seemed to think they can just drag him off to fuck him at any given moment--Jack usually insists on acting exasperated at this behavior, despite the fact he is sure the charade is transparent to all parties involved.

“You're sitting on my papers.”

The remark doesn't seem to bother Charles in the slightest. He just makes himself comfortable, looking smug all the while. “What about it.”

“Fuck you, Charles.” Charles makes no sign of wanting to move. Jack picks up his quill and dips it into the inkwell. “Alright, fine. Let's see if this is any clearer.”

He begins to write on Charles’ stomach. Charles makes it easier by spreading his legs and inching closer, placing one hand on the back of Jack's neck. Jack can focus just fine, thank you very fucking much, watching Charles’ abdomen tense and relax as he breathes under the sensation of the quill against his skin. Thoughts of business relating to protecting the Urca gold are growing more and more distant from Jack's mind.

He's only just finished writing “ _fuck_ ” and begun the letter “ _y_ ” when Charles takes the quill from him. The ink is already beginning to run on his sweaty skin as he wipes away the last letter and finishes the sentence in his own messy hand:

 _Fuck me_.

Jack raises his eyebrows, momentarily at a loss for words. “I’d say your intentions were already abundantly clear when you came in here but thank you for clarifying them,” he manages. The acerbity he was hoping for with the comment is lost as he stares at Charles sprawled on his desk, half naked, looking at him through slitted eyes.

“Ugh,” Jack groans with mock annoyance. “Christ. How am I expected to get work done with you _looking_ at me like that?”

Charles smiles slowly in triumph, leans in, glancing at Jack's mouth. “Huh, if you're trying to make me feel bad it’s not working.”

Jack scoffs and leans the rest of the way to close the distance between them. They kiss slowly, Jack reaching up to touch Charles’ hair. He pulls out the tie holding it up so he can run his fingers up the back of Charles' scalp. His other hand reaches down and _Christ,_ Charles is already hard, groaning into Jack's mouth at the contact.

Charles sits down heavily onto his lap as they continue kissing, grinding his hips against Jack, tilting his head to the side into the kiss. Charles' skin is warmed from the sun. Jack rubs one hand up Charles’ chest and then down over his stomach again, and Charles almost purrs at that. He begins kissing Jack’s neck and Jack nuzzles his ear as he does so, beginning to feel that he is wearing entirely too many layers of clothing to have Charles straddling him.

"Mm, darling," Jack whispers when Charles pulls back, and he doesn't miss how the word makes Charles' eyes soften, "Don't you think a room with a bed would be a slightly more suitable location for this?”

Charles sighs and practically drags him out of the room and down the hall of the brothel after that. He shoves Jack against the door to their room. His eyes are full of an intensity and longing Jack used to see him only direct at Eleanor, and to have it directed at him is overpowering.

Charles buries his face against Jack's neck, reaches down, breathing heavily in Jack's ear as he grabs Jack's cock through his trousers. “So glad you live up to your _big reputation,_ Jack,” he says in a rasp, his hand squeezing Jack's groin appreciatively. His voice is breathless as he whispers, “Let me suck your cock.”

“Let you?” Jack stammers. He feels himself already getting hard under Charles’ touch. It's partly the manhandling, true, partly the fear that any minute someone is going to look up from the courtyard and see them glued to each other against the door--mostly it's the desperate way Charles asked that question and the particular way he decided to praise him. "Reputation" indeed. Jack opens his mouth but can't seem to find any words, and fumbles for the door handle.

They stumble into the room, and Charles pushes Jack onto the bed unceremoniously.

As Charles crawls over him and looks him up and down, Jack at least regains his ability to say something stupid. “You know, I was in the middle of doing something important,” he jokes, as Charles begins pulling at his clothes, making short work of his jacket and then his shirt.

Charles laughs at him and pushes his own trousers down, pulls them all the way off, and then settles down on Jack's lap, completely naked. He watches Jack look him up and down for a moment as if he is smugly aware that Jack can't even take his eyes off him. “More important than this?”

“No, no,” Jack breathes. He pulls Charles down into a kiss, runs his hands down Charles’ back, pulls him closer, relishing the way Charles reacts to his touch.

Jack continues to stroke his back, and Charles groans as Jack's fingers dig into the muscle. He arches and grinds his hips down against Jack's, then impatiently opens Jack's belt and pulls off his trousers. They're finally both naked, kissing between short breaths for air.

Jack knows Charles enjoys kissing for hours but that doesn't seem to be where this is headed, not today, not from the hungry look in his eyes. Jack breathes harder, remembering how Charles asked--almost begged--to suck his cock.

“I was talking to Bonny,” Charles begins as he ties Jack's wrist to the headboard.

“What?? Why?” Jack stammers as he tries to catch his breath--and adjust to this abrupt change in subject matter.

“Had some questions for her,” Charles says defensively. Two more lengths of rope bind Jack's ankles snugly to the foot of the bed.

“About what, for God's sake? You're two of the most close-mouthed standoffish people I've ever met in my life--what in God's name did you need to talk to her about?”

Charles snorts, crawls up to straddle Jack again and loops a rope around Jack's other wrist. “Don't play dumb with me. We talked about you. More specifically, fucking you.”

Jack let's his head flop back on the bed. “Christ.”

“She said you like it when she fucks you with her wooden cock.”

“Cutting right to _that_ part, I see.” Jack rolls his eyes, trying to ignore how the thought makes blood flow swiftly away from his brain-- the fact that Charles is naked and sitting on his stomach doesn't help matters. “It's hardly remarkable, many men given the opportunity would enjoy--”

“Who’s better at it, me or her,” Charles asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Are you _fucking kidding me right now!!_ ” Jack all but yells. “You're seriously comparing the lengths of your dicks-- and I thought _I_ was a jealous lover!”

Charles shrugs, suppressing a smile, dismissing the subject with a flick of his eyebrows. He breathes a little harder as he looks down at Jack. "Also said you like it when she ties you down on the bed and rides you."

"I mean for fuck's SAKE-- _Oh,_ " Jack sighs, forgetting his irritation momentarily, "is that what you're going to do?"

Charles just gives a slight smile and sits between Jack's legs again. He looks Jack up and down, his smile gone and replaced with a slightly dazed look Jack recognizes as arousal. “Maybe after I suck your cock.”

“Oh, darling,” Jack whispers. " _Please_."

“She warned me you'd beg a lot if I said that.”

“Oh. For crying out loud!”

“Quit complaining.”

“I'll complain all I-- oh, good _God."_

Charles’ lips open around the head of Jack's cock. Jack watches him slowly swallow him more and more until he almost chokes on the length of him. The sound comes out like more of a moan, and Jack feels the ability to think escape him. Charles pulls back slightly then leans in again, groaning louder this time as he reaches down to touch himself. All Jack can do is tug at the ropes binding his wrists and ankles, wishing he could grab a fistful of Charles’ hair. Charles continues moaning as he moves his head up and down, every so often glancing up at Jack, then letting his eyes fall shut, taking his sweet time, teasing Jack with the slowness of it.

Charles pulls back to heave a breathe and licks his lips, then swallows Jack's cock again like he's starving for it, and Jack groans loudly. He wonders how Charles manages not to gag when he swallows this much of him, or perhaps if he likes that. The thought sends a shiver through him. Jack curses under his breath. The feeling of Charles’ mouth and the sight if him looking almost thankful to be sucking his cock--it's overwhelming, and Jack is suddenly grateful the rest of the noises of the brothel disguise the sounds they're making. He wonders if Charles would mind a hand holding the back of his neck, or one tangled in his hair.

Eventually Charles pulls back and sits up, panting hard. Jack moans at the loss, looks at Charles’ wet mouth, mesmerized as Charles opens a bottle of oil. He watches Charles pour it into his hand. Then Charles begins to stroke Jack's cock with it and straddles him again, bracing his hands on his chest, still breathing erratically. Jack wonders how long Charles has been fantasizing about this--if he was lying in his tent this morning in the summer heat, touching himself as he thought about it.

Charles closes his eyes for a moment. Jack watches him--how he lets out a breath as he settles down on Jack's cock, then growls in the way Jack has come to understand is more of a whimper.

“ _Darling,”_ Jack breathes, moans, begs, because the feeling is simultaneously so much and not enough, because Charles is staying still atop him, his chest rising and falling--

And then Charles begins to move. He arches his head back and breathes harder as he grinds his hips down hard, one hand lifting to caress the side of Jack's cheek, the other drifting back to his own cock.

“If I can't touch you, it's only fair that you shouldn't either, don't you think?” Jack manages, and watches as Charles grits his teeth and slowly removes his hand, heaving a breath.

Jack marvels at how easy it is to get Charles to do what he says. “That's it, darling. But you can touch yourself elsewhere if you’d like. In fact, I’d like to watch you.”

Charles groans in frustration, fingers digging into his thighs splayed on either side of Jack's hips. Slowly he begins to slide his fingers across his stomach and up his chest as he grinds his hips down harder. Jack's breath catches as he watches Charles' fingers slowly close around his own throat and tighten there.

“I didn't know you liked that,” Jack whispers, wishing he was no longer tied down and unable to run his hands over Charles thighs and chest and throat. He pulls impatiently at his bound wrists.

Charles doesn't reply, just opens his mouth to suck in a ragged breath as he continues to choke himself. His eyes fall shut again. Jack curses and pulls harder at his wrists--one hand begins to slip out of the rope. Charles didn’t tie it as viciously tight as Anne liked to, and as much as Jack enjoyed being tied up, he can barely stand not being able to touch Charles in this moment.

He pulls harder, groaning at each roll of Charles’ hips. At last he slips one wrist free. Jack reaches up to place his hand over Charles’ hand over his throat. Charles moves his hand out of the way, breathing harder-- Jack squeezes experimentally, and Charles’ entire body responds--he rolls his hips down and leans against Jack's had with a moan.

“Christ, you're magnificent,” Jack whispers. He groans at a particularly sharp thrust of Charles’ hips. A sudden inspiration strikes him--he licks his lips in anticipation and cups Charles’ face in his hand, feeling the scratch of Charles' beard under his thumb as he caresses his cheek. “I'd love to hear you refer to me as Captain while you're riding my cock, darling.”

Charles nuzzles Jack's hand, and cracks his eyes open to give Jack an amused if not slightly indifferent look. He says hoarsely, “Hmm...yeah, bet you would.”

“Come on.” Jack brushes his thumb over Charles’ throat, coaxing, pressing down on a spot that makes Charles hiss.

“Fuck you,” Charles breathes halfheartedly. He is still gripping his own thighs, fingernails digging sharply into the muscle. He leans forward, moves his hands up onto Jack's sternum.

Jack trails his hand down Charles’ chest. “Come on, darling, you've been so good at following my orders thus far…” Charles groans, leaning down as Jack's hand rises to circle his throat again. Jack squeezes and Charles makes a choked sound between a growl and a moan. Jack drinks in the sight of it--his fingers digging into Charles’ skin as Charles pants open-mouthed above him. “Does that feel good?”

Charles gasps at the pressure against his windpipe, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a breathless laugh. “Yes, _Captain,_ ” he hisses. Jack can't help the moan that escapes his lips at the the sight of Charles referring to him this way, face flushed, chest heaving and dripping with sweat as he rides him harder now. He arches his head back to give Jack a better hold on his neck. Jack rubs the skin there with his thumb, feeling the desperate groan it brings out.

“Jesus,” Jack gasps, and slides his hand down Charles’ heaving chest to stroke his cock. Charles moves his hips down hard, and they gasp together. They're both so close, sweating, panting as they almost reach the peak of their pleasure. Charles slows the movement of his hips, grits his teeth, and Jack manages to free his other hand, tangle it in Charles’ hair--

Jack gasps as he comes, Charles arches his head back and settles down with a sigh on top of him, his eyes closed.

Jack lies there in post-orgasmic bliss as Charles slumps down on top of him. At last Charles stretches and lifts himself up with languid slowness and begins licking Jack like a cat-- his tongue travelling over Jack's chest to his throat, cleaning up the mess he had made minutes before as he came. He fumbles with the ropes at Jack's ankles, unties them, then climbs up to crouch over him again.

He presses his mouth to Jack's and kisses him for a long while. Jack's hand closes softly in his hair. He runs his fingers through it, slowly, massaging the back of Charles' head as they continue kissing, and stroking the back of his neck.

Eventually Charles pulls back to catch his breath. Jack studies his face softly, then glances at his throat.

Charles notices his gaze. “What, is it starting to bruise?”

“Yes, a little.” Jack brushes his fingertips over the marks, barely touching the skin.

Charles reacts to that as if the skin is still sensitive, breath catching just slightly, then lifts his chin. “Better make sure it does then."

“What? Do you want people to know?”

“They can think what they like.” Charles flops down on the bed, arches his head back, baring his throat farther, challenging. His fingers at the nape of Jack’s neck tug harder at his hair. “Come on, _Captain.”_

Jack tries to ignore the way that word makes his face flush, the way Charles almost sounds like he’s begging, his voice hoarse. He cups the back of Charles’ neck with his hand. “Don’t think you can get me to do just anything by calling me that.”

It's a poor attempt at being convincing, because Charles instantly calls his bluff and says, “I can, though, can’t I?” and Jack is already kissing his throat again.

He focuses his attention on a small bruise that's starting to form under his jaw. He worries it with his tongue, then his teeth, grips the back of Charles’ neck tighter as Charles stiffens under him. Charles’ hand in Jack's hair grips harder.

Jack kisses the bruise some more until Charles lets out a desperate groan, and Jack feels the way Charles’ throat moves under his mouth. He bites down with his teeth once more, and gradually feels Charles go still under him again.

He pulls back to admire his work. Charles’ eyes are almost closed, and he's breathing evenly between his teeth, looking relaxed and satisfied. The bruise on his neck is unmistakable. It's not as of it's got ‘Jack Rackham’ written on it, but it will be clear to anyone looking that someone has marked their territory. Jack is surprised by how much the idea pleases him.

He bends to place a light kiss on the bruise, and then Charles’ mouth. 

Charles opens his mouth for Jack's tongue and lifts a hand to hold the back of his head, refusing to let him move. He continues to kiss Jack stupid, which at this point is not difficult. For a little while the world outside that room---the heat and the noise of Nassau and all the concerns that surround the problem of protecting it--fall away. Jack just focuses on the feeling of Charles in his arms, and the little sounds he's making as they kiss, then the way Charles holds Jack's hand over his own heart, and how the afternoon seems more warm and lazy than before.

Eventually they pull themselves out of bed and begin getting dressed. Or at least Jack does-- Charles only had trousers on to begin with. He pulls them up and fastens his belt--his chest still shines with sweat, his hair hanging tangled on his shoulders. Jack can't help but admire him as he looks him over breathlessly.

“Put on a shirt, won't you? If I keep looking at you we're going to have to go again."

“Fuck you, Jack,” Charles replies lazily. “I don't take orders from you.” He leans in close and glances at Jack's mouth then raises his eyebrows. “'Cept maybe in bed."

“Oh?” Jack murmurs.

Charles leans in and takes one last slow kiss from Jack's lips. He takes Jack's hand and holds it for a long moment, then lets it slip out of his fingers as he leaves.

 

When Jack steps out of the room, he notices Anne watching him. She’s leaning against the wall, looking him up and down, no doubt noticing the rumpled state of his clothes and the smirk he’s unable to keep off his lips. “You’ve got god-awful taste in men,” she says with a sneer, albeit an affectionate one. Jack has long known the difference between this and the sneer he doesn't want directed at him.

“Which is, of course, your touching way of telling me you accept my choice in partner, or you wouldn't have given him all that excellent advice on how to fuck me, I imagine.”

Anne shrugs slightly, but it's all the confirmation Jack needs.

“Besides, you’re the one who's got the god-awful taste in men, darling.” He pulls the brim of Anne's hat down for a kiss and hears her snort loudly.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read more about Jack being waaay too into being called captain in bed, or if you think Charles should ride him more often, those are (unsurprisingly) things I have written about [before.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14690523/chapters/33944487)
> 
> and if you noticed the reference to Anne pegging Jack, OF COURSE i have written that fic as well lol - [many](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234432) [times.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516516) dontlookatme
> 
> (as always comments are loved)


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